The sun had barely climbed above the horizon when Julius reached the eastern gate. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of dust, hay, and the faint tang of the river flowing past the city walls.
Bram was already there, leaning lazily against the gate post, twirling a spear in one hand.
"Morning, kid," he said, glancing at Julius. "Try not to trip over your own feet today."
Julius didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the road stretching into the distance. The memory of yesterday—or the memory of countless yesterdays—was gnawing at him. He could feel the pulse of repetition in every step of approaching travelers. Every sound. Every movement.
And then he saw them.
The same adventurers. The five from before, laughing and whispering among themselves. They weren't running, weren't carrying carts—just walking as if daring him.
Julius's stomach tightened. He could almost feel their intent, though he didn't understand why.
Bram noticed the change in his expression. "Relax. They're new, they don't know what they're doing."
"Maybe," Julius muttered, gripping his spear tighter.
The adventurers stopped a few meters from the gate, the boy with the crooked sword stepping forward. He raised a hand casually, as if inviting Julius to attack—or be attacked.
And then it happened.
The boy lunged. The sword came down in a sweeping arc. Instinctively, Julius raised his spear.
The moment the blade touched his spear, something strange occurred.
Time seemed… slower.
He felt the force of the swing before it even landed. He moved—not consciously, but automatically—stepping aside, pivoting his body in a motion he had never learned. The sword missed him by a hair's breadth.
The other four adventurers gasped.
Julius's heart pounded, but his mind was clear. For the first time, he realized: he remembered.
Not just a vague memory, but the pain, the strikes, the exact patterns of attacks from before. Every death. Every failed dodge. Every coin dropped. It was all there, like a ghost whispering strategies in his head.
The adventurer swung again. Faster this time. Julius's body moved even before he thought, sidestepping, twisting, using the spear almost like a lever to deflect the blade. Sparks flew as steel met steel.
The adventurers stumbled back, shocked. "What… how? He… he's supposed to be easy!" one of them yelled.
Julius froze for a heartbeat, then the realization hit him.
I survived. I shouldn't have.
Bram's voice cut through the haze, calm and unaware: "Kid? Are you playing with them or something? Don't go breaking the city rules."
Julius's grip on the spear tightened. He looked at the adventurers. They were cautious now, eyes wide, shifting back and forth.
They think this is random luck, he thought. But it's not.
He could feel something inside him humming, waiting. The memories of death, pain, humiliation—they weren't gone. They were tools. Guides. Warnings.
The boy with the crooked sword feinted left, then right. Julius anticipated it before the motion completed. He didn't strike, didn't move aggressively. He simply planted the spear to block the attack, letting the adventurer stumble past him harmlessly.
The other four adventurers glanced at each other, confused. They whispered urgently, then backed off slightly.
Bram whistled. "Huh. That's… new."
Julius's chest was tight, adrenaline pumping, but something strange coursed through his veins—clarity. Awareness. Power.
I can't unsee what I just saw, he realized. And I can't unremember. Every time they attack, every time I die… it's all inside me now.
The adventurers finally stepped back, muttering curses under their breath. They weren't leaving, but they weren't attacking either.
"I think the game's bugged" one said
"It must be a glitch" another said
Julius lowered the spear, hands trembling slightly. Bram clapped him on the shoulder. "Good job, kid. Didn't even get nicked."
Julius nodded slowly, but his mind was elsewhere. He looked down the road, thinking, This isn't normal. Something is changing. And if I keep remembering… I won't be the same anymore.
For the first time in his long, repetitive existence, Julius realized he wasn't just a guard at a gate. He was something… different. Something that should not exist.
And somewhere deep in the back of his mind, a single thought whispered, sharp and insistent:
Next time… I won't just survive.